


The Wolf, Cynic, and Squirrel

by SexyFrostGiants



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:12:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyFrostGiants/pseuds/SexyFrostGiants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings AU in which Lambert is with Geralt, and he discovers that elves are liars, Geralt is dramatic, and there are no werewolves in Flotsam. But there may be a crazed doppelgänger in power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is on an indefinite hiatus. It is also un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own.

Lambert did not want to go to Flotsam, he did not want to be caught up in a conspiracy, and he did not particularly want to be associated with Geralt of Rivia anymore. He also wanted nothing to do with the 'White wolfs' pet sorceress. Sure she was a pretty piece, but that was the only thing in her favor; to name all of her failings would take all day, but a few would be that the wench had a foul temper, was manipulative, and made his medallion pulse.

The last concerned him the most, but Geralt had only raised an eyebrow when Lambert told him.

Now they were hiding in the forest like a bunch of elves, and Lambert strongly suspected that sorceresses were behind all of their woes. Geralt - of course - believed the culprits were Elves and another Witcher. Personally Lambert felt the elves couldn't pull their heads out of their asses long enough to plan and then carry out an assassination; but a Witcher - that was a very real possibility. The Cat school was known for taking contracts on people more often than monsters these days.

There were also rumors that some from the Bear school were still wandering about, unaccounted for. Lambert wouldn't put it past Witchers from either school to take a contract on Foltest. Lambert's money was on the culprit being from Cat though - oddly enough he'd not found anyone to take a bet either for or against him. Seemed none of the Blue Stripes lot had a sense of humor.

According to the captain of their vessel they'd be reaching Flotsam - or as close to Flotsam as possible, since the waterway around the town was closed - within the day.

Hopefully there'd be some monster to take care of while they stayed - it'd certainly take the edge off his boredom. A troll would be nice, or a Leshen, they'd prove a nice distraction for a day or two. Though if Geralt insisted on helping him things would certainly go much faster, probably best to keep the 'White Wolf' busy with Merigold.

"I hope we can find a werewolf or two." Lambert said wistfully, as he considered how dull Flotsam was like to be.

"A werewolf? In Flotsam? That's about as likely as finding a real dragon." Merigold state with a soft laugh.

"But it is a possibility Merigold." Lambert replied testily, not liking the witch's presence anymore than he liked the humid air or the thick trees.

"I suppose, but the chances are slim. Besides, wishing for werewolves means you're wishing for people's misfortune, that's rather cruel of you." The redhead scolded and Lambert rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn to face the wench.

"You realize that I only get paid if people suffer from monsters right Merigold? I may be a Witcher but we still need to eat, and food costs money, money comes from killing monsters. So yeah, I really, really hope that these backwater inbreds have a monster problem." Lambert returned dryly.

"Don't speak to the lady like that." A new voice ordered and the dark haired Witcher glanced up with a furious glare as Vernon Roche - Lambert preferred Roach - stepped onto the deck, Geralt on his heels.

The blue stripes commander sent the younger Witcher a disapproving frown before stalking over to speak with his men. That man was constantly frowning, it was almost amusing.

Geralt didn't even spare his comrade a glance as he walked right up to Merigold and grasped her arm. He said nothing only lead her away, sending a significant look Lambert's way when she began to protest. Interesting, so he didn't want their conversation overheard.

Lambert considered getting up to follow them but changed his mind when he realized how little he cared about what Geralt was hiding. Whatever frivolous tidbit it was, it would be brought to light eventually - if it was important, and if it wasn't, well, then no harm no foul.

Lambert idly flipped through a book he'd swiped from Merigold; it was titled "The Art of Magic". The Witcher had stolen the book on a whim, wanting to irritate the witch, but now that he had it, it proved a dull read, as Lambert's interest in magic extended - barely - to his ability to use signs.

The young Witcher heaved a long suffering sigh and rose to pace around the ship, tucking his acquired book into his armored jacket, not entirely sure why he bothered to keep it and not just throw it overboard. Perhaps later he'd exchange it for a different book, or just take a new one and keep both.

Lambert slowly made his way towards where Roche was speaking with his right hand woman, a girl not much younger than Lambert. Her name was Ves, Lambert preferred to call her Vex - ironically this seemed to amuse her and she accepted the nickname. Lambert felt that Merigold should take some tips from Vex, perhaps she'd make for more pleasant company then.

===

Ves and Vernon glanced up as the Witcher slowly approached, his golden eyes fixated on Ves, appearing to be deep in thought. It was a familiar sight, as the dark haired Witcher rarely spoke to anyone other than Geralt or Ves, claiming to dislike most others. Not that many minded his silence, for when the young man opened his mouth, often either something cruel or cutting left it. Rarely was he anything other than negative and cynical, and so most of the crew and passengers of the ship avoided him. Lambert seemed oddly pleased by their dislike of him and went out of his way to encourage it.

"Lambert, good thing you joined us, Vernon was just telling me that we are going to be docking soon." Ves said kindly, smiling as the Witcher raised a sardonic brow.

"Excellent, so we are to leave a dingy poorly built boat to stay in a dingy poorly built town." The Witcher huffed with a roll of his eyes even as he smirked in an almost amused way.

"A town with the opportunity for work, and if that doesn't please you there's always drink and women." Vernon replied stiffly.

Lambert's (almost) playful smirk disappeared and he narrowed his eyes at the commander.

"I've no interest in the company of backwater whores." Lambert hissed.

Vernon stiffened and he glared icily at the Witcher, Lambert seemed to react to the implied threat instinctively, his entire body tensing to attack as he shifted for a more stable position and one hand suddenly held his sword.

"Sheathe your blade Lambert, no blood need be shed today." Ves hissed anxiously, noting the weapons being drawn around them and confident that should the other Blue Stripes attack, Lambert would be the one to walk away.

The Witcher glanced down at his sword in slight surprise, almost as if he wasn't aware he'd drawn it. Then the dark haired man laughed - it was a cold, bitter sound - and thankfully sheathed his blade.

"Well that was fun, good thing Vex is more than just a pretty face, eh Roach?" The Witcher questioned as he lazily leaned against a couple of crates with an unconscious, cat like grace.

"Damn right I'm more than a pretty face, I'd wipe that smirk off your face for you if we weren't on this vessel." Ves boasted and the challenge seemed to ignite a spark in the Witchers cold eyes.

"Is that so? Perhaps once we've reached Flotsam you and I can have a duel, we'll see who wins. Loser has to accept a forfeit." Lambert stated and Ves knew to back out now would cause her to lose not only face but respect as well - even though she knew damn well she couldn't beat him.

"Fine, but we agree on the forfeits here and now." She stated firmly.

"That's dull." Lambert commented as he drew a dagger and began to idly sharpen it, seemingly unaware of his actions.

"Most people would consider that a threatening move." Geralt stated and Ves barely stopped herself from spinning around in surprise.

Lambert's hands froze and he frowned slightly.

"Most would consider your lurking to be threatening, I'm simply caring for my prized possessions." Lambert defended mockingly.

"Seems to me like you're threatening Ves." Geralt returned and Ves watched in surprise as Lambert's jaw clenched and his cat eyes narrowed angrily.

"Vex, did you feel like I was threatening you?" Lambert asked stiffly, not bothering to reply to his comrade.

Ves knew better than to get in the middle of a fight between two Witchers. Knew that appearing to take one side over the other could escalate things, could lead to bloodshed. But she also knew there were a few things you didn't accuse Lambert of: first hurting a woman, second hurting a child, and third being a coward.

"You couldn't threaten me if you tried. Besides, if that's threatening someone I'm as guilty of it as Lambert." Ves stated firmly and the white haired Witcher appeared in Ves's line of sight.

He and Lambert were staring intently at one another, each appearing to be attempting to dominate the other. Lambert broke first, averting his gaze and clenching his jaw.

"Calm down Testosterone, I've already promised not to touch Roach's woman." Lambert sneered as he glared out at the forest surrounding them.

Ves raised an eyebrow at his statement, almost laughing at the idea of being Vernon's woman, honestly her commander would only ever be married to Temeria; and she was a 'sword maiden', no man would take her, not even her brothers in arms.

"Good. Go gather your possessions." Geralt growled lowly and the younger clenched his fists tightly.

For a moment Ves feared there'd be a fight but then Lambert close his eyes and appeared to be counting his breaths. Slowly golden eyes reopened and locked on an identical pair.

"Yes brother, should I clean my room while I'm at it?" Lambert questioned, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Geralt didn't deign to reply, only glared until Lambert sneered once more and stalked off the deck and down to the quarters below.

Ves waited until Geralt engaged Vernon in conversation and the attention turned away from them before following after the younger Witcher.

Ves hesitated at the closed door, wondering if she should knock or not.

"Going to just stand there Vex? Or do you intend to come in?" Lambert called from within and Ves cursed Witcher sense for a moment before letting herself in.

The younger Witcher was lounging on his bed, his eyes closed, arms behind his head, and legs were crossed, seemingly the perfect picture of relaxation. If not for his still slightly rapid breathing and the slight tenseness evident - mostly around his eyes - Ves would have assumed he was fine.

"I know you'd never lay a hand on me, or on anyone else that didn't deserve it." Ves found herself saying, wanting to comfort this man she barely knew.

"Well so long as you know I'm a decent fellow I've nothing to be concerned with." He sneered, not bothering to open his eyes or move.

Ves sighed and sat in a chair by his bedside.

"I only meant to say Geralt is an idiot and you shouldn't listen to him." Ves continued and that at least got a genuine if small smile.

"Of course he's an idiot, Vesemir raised him." Lambert replied flippantly.

Ves chuckled softly and cautiously reached a hand out to touch his shoulder. Immediately golden eyes snapped open and locked with her own. Ves guiltily pulled away, thinking his look a rebuke.

"You're fine." He said quickly and Ves almost smiled before the thought struck her: how long had it been since someone had just touched him to touch him?

People generally avoided all contact with Witchers unless they absolutely had no choice. Witchers weren't exactly the touching type, and he'd already expressed a disinterest in whores.

"Careful Vex, you have some pretty expressive eyes." Lambert commented, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

"Hmm, you be careful, one more comment without any bite and people might think you're nice." Ves teased and he smirked.

"I don't think we are in any danger of that." Lambert dismissed the idea with a dark chuckle.

"I think you have the potential." Ves said softly looking away from him and focusing her gaze on a painting of a stormy sea hanging on the wall by the bed.

"Vex ... " Lambert trailed off, frowning slightly.

"I should go, we're to land soon and I actually do have to repack." Ves said with a soft sigh as she rose and turned to leave.

Ves paused at the door and glanced back to find the Witcher watching her intently.

"For the record I am not, have never been, and never will be 'Roche's Woman'." Ves said firmly and he laughed in surprise.

Ves congratulated herself on a job well done and left him alone to go repack her clothing and weapons.

\---  
===  
\---

Lambert could hardly believe they'd stumbled upon - more like been ambushed by - Iorveth. Bloodthirsty leader of a Scoia'tael commando rumored to be operating in the borderlands. Well, rumor confirmed.

Lambert had never really liked elves personally, he didn't believe the shite about them being evil spies or nefarious masterminds, he just felt the lot of them were a bunch of stuck up pushovers. Iorveth on the other hand, was a man he could respect. The elf knew what he wanted and how to take what he needed to reach his - possibly insane - goal. Sure the elf killed people, but Lambert killed people too. In short, the Witcher admired the Scoia'tael leader - more than he admired Eskel, not that he'd ever tell the older Witcher that he considered him admirable. In fact, he'd probably never tell Iorveth either.

"King or beggar - what's the difference? One dh'oine less." Iorveth sneered and Lambert choked on a laugh, ignoring the glare Roach sent his way.

The elves gaze flashed to the younger Witcher and he frowned slowly.

"Where's your commando?" Lambert asked curiously, looking towards the bushes on the cliff above them, where he could hear the elves breathing.

"Why ask when you know Witcher?" Iorveth returned mockingly and Lambert couldn't help but grin.

"I just love to hear you talk." Lambert replied with a smirk.

Iorveth seemed unsure wether the Witcher was taunting him or not for a brief moment, but after a slight pause the elf sneered.

"Be careful who you mock dh'oine." Iorveth sneered.

Lambert stiffened and narrowed his slitted eyes at the elf.

"I'm no more a human than you are." Lambert spat.

Interest flickered in the elves eyes and a slight smirk tugged at his lips. Lambert silently cursed himself, he was foolish to let the elf get to him so easily.

"Enough of this piss! Die!" Roach screamed suddenly and threw a dagger at the elf.

Lambert snorted as the elf expertly dogged the blade - honestly it wasn't even a throwing knife. Amateur.

"Spar'le!" Iorveth ordered as he raced up the fallen tree and back to the safety of his brethren.

"Well, we are screwed." Lambert announced helpfully.

The archers rose from the shrubs and took aim, Lambert prepared himself for the sweet embrace of death, only for Merigold to conveniently throw up a magical golden shield. Figures, wench had to be a hero. Her and Geralt were well matched.

The arrows bounced off the shield harmlessly, and Lambert laughed at the frustrated expressions on the elves faces. His amusement only grew when more elves rushed the shield from the ground, going for the sorceress.

Lambert debated letting them kill her, but then remembered if the spell failed he was dead too, and if he was dead he wouldn't get to kill the - likely nonexistent - werewolf lurking in the forest around Flotsam.

"The werewolf is mine!" Lambert snarled loudly as he shoved his blade through first one elves chest and then cleanly separated another elves head from his body.

"There is something seriously wrong with you!" Roach growled as he battle two other elves.

"My stunningly good looks are indeed unusual in these parts. I hope you will be able to cope Roach." Lambert returned as he ducked a potentially lethal blow to his head and removed the elfs arm in one fluid move.

"Stop flirting you two, Triss can't hold this forever." Geralt growled.

"Then carry her to Flotsam, we will be right behind you." Lambert stated and the elder Witcher grunted in reply and scooped up the sorceress.

Lambert and Roach fought side by side, careful to stay within the magical shield as they neared Flotsam.

They had almost reached safety when an elf gave a war cry to rival a harpy and launched himself at Roach. The blue stripes commander killed the elf but was knocked out of the circle.

Lambert cursed loudly and rushed towards the man, dodging the barrage of arrows.

"If we survive this, I am going to kill you!" Lambert snarled as he threw himself in front of the commander who had yet to rise.

Eight elven warriors surrounded them and three archers stepped onto the path, their bows aimed at Lambert. Roach groaned in pain and Lambert risked a glance down to see the mans foot bent at a ninety degree angle. They were so dead.

"Voe'rle! Va, Vatt'ghern." Iorveths voice rang from above them and Lambert hesitated then slowly bent and grabbed Roach, tossing the man over his right shoulder.

"Thank you." Lambert said carefully as he cautiously slipped between the gap the elven warriors reluctantly made.

Iorveth didn't reply and Lambert couldn't stop himself from looking up to find the elf watching him intently.

The Witcher nodded once, respectfully then turned and made his way to Flotsam.

\---

"He let you go?" Merigold demanded incredulously.

"We'd be dead if he hadn't." Roach pointed out as Ves bound his broken foot.

"Today was full of surprises, Roche was caught off guard, Lambert saved him, and Iorveth had a sudden change of heart and let a Witcher and the commander of the blue stripes walk away relatively unharmed." Geralt stated dryly.

"Maybe he felt Roach was too pitiful to kill, he wants a fight where they are both healthy and strong. Wants to personally kill the last special forces leader." Lambert suggested as he idly studied an arrow that had embedded itself in the armored padding on his left shoulder.

He hadn't noticed it until Merigold had demanded he sit and be checked over. Fortunately it hadn't reached his flesh, but his armor now needed to be repaired.

The arrow was finely crafted, the elf that had made it was definitely experienced and no youngling. The projectile was perfectly balanced, the shaft was light but sturdy, the head was sharp and expertly shaped, while the fletching was perfectly secured and each feather was identical in shape and size. All in all, if the arrow had been fired by the hand of its crafter Lambert shouldn't have lived to inspect it; he had a feeling it hadn't been aimed at his exposed neck, but rather at his armor. Perhaps it was a warning, a reminder of how deadly elves are. Somehow, Lambert doubted that, a more effective message would have been to kill him.

"Are you paying attention?" Geralt growled and Lambert slowly raised his gaze from the arrow to his comrade.

"As intently as if I'm listening to Vesemir." Lambert replied solemnly - which translated to: not one fucking bit.

"We have to go search for any clues the elves may have left." Geralt stated as if he'd said it three times before.

"Iorveth isn't a common drowner Geralt, he hasn't left a half eaten corpse, clear tracks, or even an identifiable scent. We will not find anything." Lambert stated with a roll of his eyes.

"I am willing to bet the Scoia'tael even collected all of their spent arrows." Lambert said as he gestured with the master-crafted arrow he held.

"I'm going to check anyway, will you come with me or not?" Geralt snapped and Lambert sighed and rose.

"Fine. But we are wasting our time."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if it's kinda short and for any errors. Also thank you to everyone who's commented and encouraged me ☺️ I appreciate it a lot.

Lambert sat on a large rock watching Geralt search for clues without any success. The younger Witcher was silently gloating about the fact that he was right when his companion glanced up to glare at him.

"Don't be so smug Lambert, we're not leaving Flotsam until we find the Witcher that killed Foltest." Geralt reminded Lambert sharply as he rose from the crouch he'd been in while trying to make out whether an indent in the dirt was a footprint or not.

"Did you get anything from your 'footprint'?" Lambert asked rather than respond to Geralt's comment, after all it wouldn't do them any good to argue on a hunt.

"Possibly, it's too thick to be Elven, what do you think?" Geralt questioned as he gestured for Lambert to take a look.

The younger Witcher hopped off his rock and carefully made his way towards the partial print, not wanting to accidentally disturb or destroy any other potential clues.

Lambert knelt down to inspect the print but couldn't see much more than the fact that it was thick and seemed to come from the heel rather than the toe of the foot. But then Lambert's sense of smell had always been much better than his eyesight.

"Smells like ... alcohol - maybe preservatives. Old Leather. Blood. Sweat. They probably stood for awhile. They knew we were coming." Lambert murmured as he slowly looked up at Geralt to find the white haired man glaring off towards Flotsam.

"We have a spy." Geralt growled out angrily and Lambert sighed as he stood.

"Looks like. My bets on the big hairy one, he's always rubbed me wrong." Lambert offered as he stretched lazily only to freeze when he caught a scent.

"Do you smell that?" Lambert asked sharply and Geralt returned to the present as he scented the air.

"Decaying flesh. Human." Geralt identified and the two turned as one to follow the scent deeper into the forest.

Lambert kept a cautious eye on the trees knowing they were likely being lead into a trap and thereby being watched.

"We aren't prepared for this Geralt." Lambert hissed sharply as he realized just how few supplies he had and that neither of them had meditated in well over twenty hours.

"We don't have an option Lambert, we need to find where the scent is coming from." Geralt snapped back without looking at the younger Witcher.

Lambert grit his teeth and considered turning back but he was no coward and he wouldn't abandon his brother to face death alone.

"We are going to our ploughing deaths." Lambert stated glumly and Geralt snorted softly in amusement.

"Way to look on the bright side." Geralt teased as he drew his iron sword as the stench grew more powerful.

Lambert huffed and drew his silver sword deciding it was best to be prepared for a monster and be wrong than have to switch swords mid-battle.

A loud crash came from a semi-clearing in front of them and the two Witcher's dropped into crouches automatically. A large creature stomped out of the trees and gave a furious roar of challenge as it cast its beady eyes around the forest.

Lambert's mouth fell open slightly as he studied the beast. It was easily two men tall, was thicker than three cows, and it had what may have been bones protruding from its chest, shoulders, elbows, knees, and head.

The beast was a pinkish color and after a moment Lambert realized with growing disgust that it's skin had been stripped from its body. The massive beasts teeth were barred and yellowed, drool slipping down its chin as it squinted its tiny eyes about the clearing, though evidently it hadn't seen them for it stood dumbly in the center, growling to itself, a club hanging limply from its right hand. The creatures strength was obvious if it could wield a weapon as long as Lambert was tall and the younger Witcher was quick to note it.

Taking the time for a closer inspection of the creature Lambert noticed its feet were more like hands than anything else, hands with talons instead of nails that is. Very, very long talons.

Worst of all however was the stench that it excreted, that of decaying human flesh. The smell was overwhelming and all Lambert could smell, and not for the first time he cursed his Witcher senses and their sensitivity.

Geralt it seemed was in the same boat, as he peered around them carefully, clearly expecting the ambush Lambert knew was coming if they killed the beast. But he too was unable to detect anything past the stench of the creature.

"We need to go." Lambert insisted in a soft whisper and Geralt glanced at him and nodded reluctantly after taking one last look at the lumbering beast and its massive club.

Lambert was relieved that the older Witcher was seeing reason and not planing a suicidal attack on the monster. Perhaps there was a first time for everything after all.

The two Witcher's carefully retreated keeping one eye on the monster behind them as they retreated. Lambert added the fact that the monster seemed to be relatively stupid to his mental journal entry on it.

Lambert glanced back as they reached the edge of the forest and froze when he caught a brief glimpse of Iorveth himself lazily lounging in a massive tree watching them. The younger Witcher debated calling Geralt's attention to the elf but quickly realised two things; first, he was only seeing Iorveth because the elf wanted him to. Second, Iorveth had likely set the trap with the beast and could potentially control - or at least direct - it and he knew that they may lose if they tried to fight it. So Lambert simply gave the elf a friendly nod then turned and walked away, relishing the elf's brief expression of surprise before he turned.

\---

Lambert looked up from his journal to find Geralt bent over several different journals his expression pinched with frustration.

"What?" Lambert demanded in annoyance when the elder Witcher sighed in irritation for the umpteenth time.

"There is no record of that thing Lambert. Not one." Geralt stated in irritation.

"It just may not be in your journals." Lambert reasoned as he stretched and set aside his journal with its half finished sketch of the beast.

"These aren't just mine Lambert, these are Witcher journals I've found in my travels, and not a single one of them has the beast in it." Geralt grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair.

Lambert frowned at the thought of Geralt having the journals of other Witcher's - for a Witcher would only part with his journal if he was dead; and once a Witcher died his brethren were careful to collect all his journals for the school library when they collected his body. Which meant these journals were from dead schools.

The younger Witcher couldn't stop himself from wondering about the slowly dying wolf school and the library full of journals of men long dead. Would they one day end up in the hands of new Witchers? Or would they be forever forgotten and left to rot, their ancient knowledge lost to the ages. Perhaps that was for the best, the time of the Witchers was coming quickly to an end and their knowledge would do the common man little good, and likely much danger. After all the last thing anyone needed was some halfwit deciding he could clear out a drowner nest because he'd read about it in a centuries old journal.

Lambert frowned slightly as he glanced at his own journal, he'd barely had it three years and yet it was nearly full, covered in odd stains, likely potions or blood, maybe both. He had two more like it that he carried with him for reference, how long would it be until he fell, until someone was sent to collect his journals, if they could, and whatever was left of his corpse.

Would he outlive Vesemir? It seemed unlikely, the old Witcher was tucked safely away in Kaer Morhen while Lambert was traveling with the thrice damned danger lodestone that was Geralt or Rivia.

"You should give those to Vesemir." Lambert admonished harshly, dragging himself back to the present rather than continue that line of thought.

"Vesemir can have them when I'm dead." Geralt snapped and Lambert clenched his jaw and looked towards the window, seeking distraction to avoid the temptation of striking his brother.

"I want to look through them before we leave." Lambert stated, changing the subject instead of carrying on with their previous conversation as he had no interest in letting Geralt know just how disturbed the journals made him.

"Don't get anything on them, they're older than you are." Geralt answered gruffly but it was consent.

"Would I do that?" Lambert demanded in mock offense.

The elder Witcher only glanced up long enough to send Lambert's own journals a pointed look before he went back to leafing through a sixth journal.

"Fair enough. I'll leave you to that while I go ask around, maybe someone has seen the beast before." Lambert drawled as he rose and stretched lazily, and then carefully returned his journal and coal to his pack.

"I'm sure the whores have seen the monster plenty of times." Geralt muttered sarcastically.

"I'll have you know I was going to ask the barmaids first." Lambert shot back with a bitter smirk as he stepped out the door and let it shut behind him, effectively cutting off Geralts next comment.

With a quiet sigh the younger Witcher gathered his scattered thoughts and then made his way towards the town square, after all if you were looking for gossip the best place to start was with merchants, they'd tell you anything for just a flash of silver.

~•~

Ves huffed in irritation as she stormed out of the sickroom Vernon had been confined to. The bastard had sent her away, with the accusation that she'd been 'fussing' over him. Hardly. She didn't fuss over anything or anyone, hadn't since before she lost her family. Sometimes she wanted to stran-

"Aye, they've got to be ploughing." Fenn declared loudly and Ves glanced up to find three of the lads starring out the window towards the building the Witchers were staying in.

"Nah, they'd kill each other first." Thirteen denied from the table where he was not so subtly looking at the piles of abandoned cards while the others were distracted.

"'M tellin' ya, they're goin' at it like virgins afore a battle." Oven insisted as he shoved away from the window and took a sip of whatever swill filled his bottle before dropping into his seat across from thirteen.

"Who exactly are we discussing?" Ves asked curiously as she snagged Silas' abandoned ale.

"The Witchers." Igo answered gruffly from across the room where he was very irritably sharpening his blade.

"Lambert would sooner put a dagger in Geralts stomach." Ves stated easily, smirking slightly at the thought of the younger Witchers horror if he were to hear the lads discussion.

Perhaps she'd tell him later.

"Or maybe he'd like to put something else in Geralt!" Finch laughed as he waggled his brows at her and then winked when she snickered.

"Bet you want to put something in Geralt." Igo grumbled from the couch.

Finch protested loudly and threw an empty card box at Igos head, hitting his mark dead center. Igo was across the room quickly and Ves' day improved greatly as the situation deteriorated into a fistfight.

Despite being the 'leader' while Vernon was out of commission she still put money on Igo. After all there were no rules saying a commander couldn't have fun, despite whatever Vernon may believe.


End file.
